Stubbornness Issues
by JeyG-Sparrow
Summary: Sometimes Hiccup's pride is bigger than his brain. All that's left to find out now is what kind of precarious situations he can get himself into because of it.


**Sour**

 **A/N: Takes place shortly after the first movie-verse. As a warning for the queasy readers, there is some descriptive injury, but I assure it is nowhere close to gory.**

 **I apologize if there appears to be O.O.C.-ness.**

Berk did not usually have sunny days, but today was one of those rare times when warmth was spread throughout the island from the bright rays, not a single cloud being carried by the sky. While it put the mood of most Vikings into a more suitable and content one, for Gobber the Blacksmith, things were not so jolly.

Working in the forge was a daily occurrence for him and his apprentice Hiccup, whether it included their own personal projects, reloading the armory, or sharpening an axe or two. And usually the two did not mind the job so bad. However, the forge already would give them a nice amount of heat when lit, which only made the warmth of the day give Gobber something to frown upon.

Gobber was restocking an armful of gleaming weapons after giving each a new sharp shine, displaying them on racks from above. Usually Hiccup would sort the individual weaponries himself, being the apprentice, but he was unsurprisingly late to show up that morning, most likely using up his time to fly Toothless around the island. Gobber grunted disapprovingly at the thought. That was just your typical Hiccup; it took a lot of persuading to get him off that dragon. While Gobber was not happy with his absence, he continued to do the cleaning work of setting the many different tools in their respective places, whistling lightly despite himself for the reason of passing time quicker rather than being cheerful. Through his silent work he was plotting what sort of job he should give Hiccup as punishment for abandoning all the workload on his mentor's shoulders. He had just come up with a good idea when the familiar sound of a young, running Viking with one step pattering a foot and the other a squeaking prosthetic came bursting inside the forge, and as soon as Hiccup was inside he fumbled to pull off his riding harness while simultaneously trying to replace it with his dusty brown work apron. While doing so he distractedly said, "Sorry, Gobber, I was up late and Toothless woke me up early and I must've fell back asleep 'cuz…"

He trailed off in a breath of pants, tossing his harness aside and tying up the apron behind him, immediately ducking past his mentor to busy himself with arranging the weapons as he was supposed to. However Gobber stopped him by putting his flesh hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Oh, no ye don't," he replied with a forbidding expression. "You'll be working out back today."

Hiccup looked confused. "What? I cleaned out the storage yesterday and…"

"Not the storage," Gobber interrupted, waving his hand to dismiss Hiccup's statement. "Now, I've got an old catapult that has been needing quite the re-polish for a long time. I've never gotten around to fix it up, and now it's being infested by termites and rotting beyond worth of repair. So, I'm giving you the perfect opportunity to break that ol' girl down to a pile of splinters and corkscrews…" Gobber lightly pushed Hiccup backwards with his prosthetic pliers. "…and it better be done before noon."

Hiccup looked like he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You can't be serious," he responded with a hint of spite. "Are you talking about 'Ol' Gerda'? You just might as well burn her to the ground and collect the metal off the ashes later…"

"Ah-ah," Gobber reprimanded, shaking his head in disagreement. "No way am I letting any kind of scrap being wasting in dragon's breath. And no way am I letting _your_ lazy bum off the hook for scorching away a perfectly good punishment!" Gobber limped to a table not far from the backdoor of the forge, pointing to a set of tools waiting for use. "Take these and get to work."

However, as stubborn and hard-headed as he was, Hiccup continued to argue, not regarding the fact that he had never won an argument with Gobber before. With an attitude of sass he retorted, " _Lazy? Me?_ I was up all night sorting everything in storage while _you_ were sleeping!"

Gobber shot him a dangerous look that made Hiccup regret retaliating. "Do you wanna stay up all night again, picking up every speck of dust and coal off the forge floor until _I_ say it's spotless?" With a low growl Hiccup shook his head. "Good. Now _get going!"_

With one last glare at his mentor Hiccup begrudgingly obeyed, mumbling under his breath about how unfair the veteran Viking could be at times. He intentionally left the tools behind and pushed his way out the backdoor of the forge, walking through the piles of scrap metal neatly waiting in storage just like he said he had stacked the day before, although Hiccup would slightly stumble over runaway pieces when he wasn't watching his footing. Eventually he was past the junkyard and near the edge of the forge boundaries, where sure enough sat Ol' Gerda, looking as rotten and pest-infested as ever with a strange odor coming off her wood. Hiccup placed his hands on his hips and thought over the situation, contemplating the best way for him to take her apart. He started by pulling off her lever and restraining rope, unsurprisingly easy tasks due to her weakened state of damp dead timber. He made a pile of it behind him and climbed up the mast of the catapult, working to detach the bucket. However it proved impossible for him to do because of the metal still latched around it, which the rusty metal of Ol' Gerda did not weaken as the wood did. Hiccup tried to pry it off anyway, panting at the useless struggle and effort he put into the job. Finally he slid back down to the ground, giving up. There was no way he was going to finish this without the proper tool. However he thought back to his mentor, who was grumpier than a Meathead and not willing to listen to Hiccup's justifiable excuses for being late. He couldn't just go back there and grab the utensils Gobber intended for him to take; it would mean he was accepting the fact he needed his help, and he did _not_ want to give the Blacksmith that vibe. He would do this, and he would do it well, without anyone else's help.

So thus began the next few hours of Hiccup's daunting task in the morning, pulling and prying and shoving the catapult apart piece after piece until he swore his hands would start bleeding from the strain. He was in no way splinter-free and there was sweat pouring down his forehead, not to mention he was working on an empty stomach due to skipping breakfast so he wouldn't have to be any later for work. Hiccup had eventually allowed himself to use the scrap metal in the junkyard as substitute tools for himself, knowing that as long as he didn't return inside the forge Gobber would not know he was needing any additional help. He used a rusted and bent makeshift crowbar to pry loose the old metal wrapping around the base of Ol' Bertha, barely managing to bend it backwards so the nails had popped out of the wood.

Feeling a bubble of excitement at this accomplishment, Hiccup pulled on the crowbar harder with his prosthetic leg pressing on the wooden base and his flesh foot supporting himself on the ground. He grunted when the metal made another popping noise, and determined to finish the job, Hiccup jerked his body backwards as hard as he could. However instead of the metal coming clean off, the junky crowbar lost its grip, snapped in half and was thrown back, thankfully missing direct contact with Hiccup's head but managing to graze a cut under his left ear.

The sharp pain as well as the shock of half the crowbar flying past his face caused Hiccup to be propelled off the catapult base on his back with a grunt, throwing the breath out of his lungs. Unstable, the catapult shook from the force of the leap Hiccup put on its base and it wobbled to the left and right, and without warning the exhausted mast split clean in half and gravity took it downwards, the metal bucket of the old device falling straight for Hiccup's dazed and breathless form. Hiccup tried to roll out of the way, managing to save all but his metal leg, which was crushed with a sickening _snap_ under the weight of the formerly sturdy weapon.

For the first few seconds of being trapped Hiccup was unsure whether or not he should have been feeling pain. Heart pounding, he tried to focus on breathing, and for a few terrifying moments he was unable to take in any air. But when he rolled his upper body on his side he was finally able to grasp hold a few gasping breaths, coughing violently and nearly winding himself clean again. Involuntary tears stung the corners of his eyes from the strain in his throat, and a little after the few seconds of regaining full focus Hiccup started to comprehend shoots of agony coming from underneath the fallen mast of the catapult, and he remembered that his prosthetic leg was trapped and most likely broken from the heavy crunch. Just about where his leg ended was where the pain came from, and Hiccup started to fear with a rapidly pounding heart that he had reinjured the stump that was previously on the safe road to recovery.

Shakily he lifted his head, examining where his leg was lost under the metal and wood pile, and felt his face pale at the sight of red stickiness oozing out from the sides. He wanted to scream, but he had barely caught his breath yet, and nothing came out. Instead more tears fell, and he hastily tried to stop them in severe vain. They kept coming, and he couldn't have stopped them if he wanted to. He didn't even have a chance to speak at this point due to the choking sobs that were interrupting his inhaling pattern, so all thoughts of grabbing Gobber's attention from inside were hopeless in Hiccup's mind by now. He hesitantly tried pulling himself free, but regretted it as more pain was thrown up his leg till it was almost unbearable. Hiccup kept himself as still as possible and buried his head in his arms, all attempts to stop the tears forgotten as his mind whirled a billion miles an hour. Why didn't he just use the proper tools for the job like he should have? If he had used the correct and sturdy utensils Gobber supplied him with for the job, perhaps the unreliable crowbar would not have caused him to get himself into this mess.

For a long time Hiccup lied there, unable to move and unable to stop sobbing. He thought it was long past afternoon by the time he finally could get a handle of himself. He forced his breathing to slow and carefully tried sitting up, trying to ignore the growing amount of red staining the grass under the catapult. Hiccup clutched his hands around the unharmed part of his leg and, with a shaky and pathetic call drawled out, "Gobber…"

There was no response, and Hiccup tried again, knowing it was probably too quiet for his near-deaf mentor to hear. " _Gobber…_ " Still there was no reply.

Hiccup started to feel anxious that Gobber might no longer be present. If Gobber wasn't in the forge, there was no way he would be able to get any kind of help anytime soon. He was as good as bleeding out and dying there, he thought in his panic- - if his mind was straighter he would have known better than that conclusion. Without conscious thought Hiccup cried out, releasing a few more tears, " _Gobber!"_ The effort almost made him break down once more, but Hiccup refused to let the Blacksmith know he had been crying this whole time and held back.

To his intense relief Hiccup heard a struggle go on in the forge, a few clanks of metal banging against the hard ground as the bulky Viking pushed his way to the backdoor of the shop. The door was thrown open and Gobber shoved outside, whipping his head across the junkyard with an expression of defense ready to fight off any danger that might have provoked Hiccup to call his name. His eyes lied on Ol' Gerda sitting past the junkyard a little ways, tore down like he had wanted, only the mast holding the bucket had fallen on the ground… and was crushing the nonexistent leg of Hiccup's and then some. Gobber furrowed his bushy brows when his eyes fell on Hiccup's tear-stained face, and it was only when he saw his foot trapped under the mast of Ol' Gerda did he process what exactly was going on. Without a second thought Gobber burst through the junkyard like a mad Nightmare in a ring, and he stopped at his apprentice's side with a look of grave resignation.

"Ah, Hiccup…" Gobber chided gently with a sigh and shake of his head. "Every time I turn my back on you, you just have to get yerself in some form o' trouble…" However concern was evident when Gobber eyed the blood coming from underneath the catapult.

Hiccup was unable to respond directly. He found himself only able to repeat his mentor's name in undertones, this time in a more drowned relief sort of way, knowing that if Gobber was there, then everything would be okay. His mentor had a tough exterior, but he had a soft spot for his close companions, namely in this case the chief's son.

"Alright, Hiccup, stay still now…" Gobber moved to the catapult mast, putting both arms under it while digging his prosthetic into the wood sharply to keep a good grip with his left limb. With a growl of concentration the Blacksmith lifted the mast off Hiccup's wrecked leg, tossing it to the side where the pile of the catapult's remains lied in wait. The full scale of the fresh wound made Gobber cringe in sympathy for his distressed apprentice, whose breath started to speed up at the sight of it. Gobber bent down at Hiccup's side, knowing full well there was no way the kid would be able to walk at this point, not to mention his metal leg was utterly destroyed. Gobber was initially annoyed at the idea of building Hiccup a new one, but he became more focused on fixing up the damage the boy had done to himself once Hiccup made an aggrieved moan.

With a mind for Hiccup's injury Gobber picked him up bridal style and carried him back into the forge, noting Hiccup's hand gripping the front of his shirt tightly, perhaps unconsciously as his eyes glazed out of focus. The blonde bearded man shook his head slightly and brought Hiccup inside, gingerly setting him down on a table he cleared off free of weapons earlier before. He dug through a cabinet of unused aprons and whipped out a few, returning to Hiccup and focusing on his leg. He set the aprons down and unraveled the stained rope that secured the wood part of the prosthetic to the leg, and then pried the rest of the impaired prosthetic clean off of Hiccup.

Hiccup inhaled sharply and bit his lip, obviously holding back an agonized shout, and he hid his lowered face in the palm of his hand so Gobber couldn't see the tears. The movement went not unnoticed to the keen eyes of the Blacksmith and Gobber started to douse the boy's leg in the bucket of water he had recently collected. It was at first going to be used to fulfill the bulky Viking's thirst from the hard work on the hot day, but he was instantly willing to give it up considering the stakes of how much Hiccup needed it more than him. Once most of the blood was washed away Gobber retrieved the aprons and wrapped them around his leg to stop it from bleeding, in which he swore he heard Hiccup release a choked sob at the movement. However the boy refused to expose his face, feeling himself flush in embarrassment and shame at needing to be taken care of like this.

Once Gobber finished wrapping the wound he stood up tall and crossed his arms, looming over Hiccup with a very serious expression on his face. "Hiccup." He spoke deeply, demanding the boy's attention. When Hiccup didn't look up or respond Gobber repeated more firmly, " _Hiccup_. Hiccup, look at me."

Reluctantly Hiccup removed his hand and raised his head partway up, but he did not give the Blacksmith eye contact, instead staring at nothing in the distance of the forge. His face was red and damp, part from sweat and part from tears, some still rolling down from his eyes. Gobber hated seeing him like this, but he forced himself to remain calm and hold an air of authority to the situation. Supposing it was the closest sort of 'look at me' he was going to get at that hour, Gobber delicately asked with a composed tone of voice, "Hiccup, why didn't you use the tools I gave you?"

Hiccup bit his lip again and didn't respond. Why _didn't_ he use the tools Gobber gave him? Hiccup knew the answer, but he was humiliated at how it sounded considering all the trouble he went through because of the simple mistake. He had been angry at Gobber for being treated unfairly and wanted to prove that he didn't need his help to do the extra load of work. But there was no way Hiccup was going to tell that to the Blacksmith- - he would have no pride left to hang onto if that was the case, and he believed that was almost all he had to make up for his lack of physical strength. If he told Gobber the truth, he would probably never be respected again; his actions just sounded so childish now, and Hiccup wished he could go back in time to change things. He pursed his lips and stared at the remains of his wrapped leg, the pain now dulled to a throbbing ache. He could see blood seeping through the apron fabrics, but thankfully it was enough to keep it from soaking up too much. Now Hiccup started to realize he had just ruined many of Gobber's perfectly good aprons, and he ducked his head again, practically radiating with guilt and shame.

"Hiccup." Gobber pressed again when Hiccup kept his silence. "Hiccup, I'm not angry." How could he be? It hurt more than anything for Gobber to see Hiccup so broken. At least when he first lost his foot he was unconscious and unaware of any pain until the later aftermath. "So tell ol' Gobber why you didn't use his tools."

Using himself in the third person was supposed to make small light of the situation, but it failed to work on Hiccup who was more openly distressed than he had been in a very long time. He hated to show weakness, especially in front of the Vikings he deeply respected, and so to show so much emotion like this greatly disturbed Gobber. However he forced himself to remain stoic and serene, being as soft as his Viking demeanor allowed as he tried to get Hiccup to talk.

It seemed like forever before Hiccup spoke, but Gobber had kept his patience in check the whole time. He promised he was not mad at Hiccup, and he did not want to seem like he was backing down on that promise by rushing Hiccup to respond, so when Hiccup actually did start to talk Gobber put his full and undivided attention on his apprentice to not miss a word.

"I… I didn't want to…" Hiccup paused and sniffed, then started over. "I wanted to p-prove I could do it…" he didn't finish the sentence. But what he said was enough for Gobber to understand.

The burly Viking shook his head lightly, his long braided moustache strands swinging back and forth at the action. "Ye should know by now that you have nothing more to prove, lad." It was a subtle reference to Hiccup's commitment to the tribe that abandoned him, and the sacrifice he gave to save all their lives from the Red Death despite it. Gobber put his gentle flesh hand on the boy's shoulder, making Hiccup snap his head up to look into his eyes for the first time since before the accident. Seeing the genuine shine coming off of Gobber at the words, Hiccup couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with another wave of emotion, and his throat constricted and expression tightened. New tears quietly fell down his face and he closed his eyes, merely dropping his forehead against Gobber's chest brokenly, seeking some form of comfort. The Viking did not hesitate to carefully pull Hiccup into a loose embrace, understanding full well that being just a boy meant he needed more than encouraging words to feel better.

"Easy, Hiccup," Gobber murmured tentatively when Hiccup marked the beginning of more sobs. "Ye're alright. I got you. You'll be just fine…"

Hiccup barely acknowledged the words and continued to cry into Gobber's shirt, his fists balling up the fabric tightly. The middle-aged Viking felt he could do nothing more but wait for the cries to subdue, knowing that it was best to let the boy pent it all out now instead of feel the need to hide it inside. That was never good for anyone, Gobber mused. So he allowed Hiccup to soak his clothes with his tears, to hunch over in the tender arms of Gobber while still sitting on the table. Despite how long it felt for the two to be just like that, it only lasted so long, and Hiccup was the first to pull away when he got a hold of himself once more.

"Uhm…" he mumbled incoherently, breaking all possible attempts for eye contact and wiping his face with his arms. His head spun from dehydration and his entire body started to ache after releasing all that tension, and shakily he tried to think up of something to say to rid the awkward force he felt. "Mm sorry, Gobber…" quickly he added, "I- I mean, for not l-listening to you."

Gobber grinned lightly. "Aye, me too lad. I know you're not lazy…" he prodded Hiccup's chest gently with a finger. "…in fact, you're one of the hardest workers in the village, right af'er your father." He added with exaggerated wide eyes and a hand over the side of his mouth as if telling Hiccup a secret, "Perhaps more hard-headed than him, even."

Hiccup broke out in a teary smile, which made Gobber's smile broaden at the desired effect. He patted his apprentice's arm while releasing that contagious chuckle of his and started to limp to the exit of the forge. Hiccup was passing his sleeve over his nose when he turned to see his mentor leave, a slight air of dismay falling over his expression at the other's move. "Where're you going?" His voice was thick from his stuffed nose and sounded heavy with exhaustion.

Without stopping or looking back Gobber answered, "M' gettin' you some water, proper bandages, and wood n' scrap metal to replace yer foot. You'll need it all after that fiasco, trust me."

Hiccup's face flushed and he nodded, still sensitive and embarrassed about the whole thing. However the majority of his feelings were focused on how grateful he was to have Gobber, even if he tried convincing himself that he didn't want his help half the time. Hiccup swore to himself that he would never be so sour to his mentor again after what had went down today.

Gobber suddenly reappeared from the opening of the forge. "Also, I'm sure your father would love to hear about all that happened." He then disappeared again.

With his mouth hanging open in shock, Hiccup shouted, "Wait! No, Gobber!" however he was unable to do anything to stop his chuckling mentor, missing a leg and all. However he knew Gobber was only joking, and Hiccup couldn't help but laugh to himself when the contagious nature of Gobber's sniggers finally caught up to him. Hiccup rephrased his silent swear to never be so sour to his mentor _most of the time._

 **A/N: It was a bit of a plot bunny; a depressing one, I'll admit. As far as I know, there's not much Gobber and Hiccup interaction on this website, so I wanted to throw in my own bit. Besides, you would think the two have a pretty strong relationship, being the mentor and apprentice Blacksmiths of the island. This series of one-shots isn't going to surround on Hiccup and Gobber, though; it'll be solely about Hiccup and his stubborn demeanor and how it affects himself and any of the other characters.**

 **I was going to continue this in a part 2 so the other characters could be filled in on the incident (minus the details, of course), but I didn't want the story to lose it's focus on Hiccup's stubbornness. I might make references in future one-shots to this certain event in time, but that's all. If any one of you has an idea for a particular one-shot feel free to let me know in a review and I will consider writing it; you can set it in a different timeline, too, such as Race to the Edge.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed reading this. :)**


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